Elegy II. On The Death Of The University Beadle At Cambridge.[1]

Thee, whose refulgent staff and summons clear,
    Minerva's flock longtime was wont t'obey,
Although thyself an herald, famous here,
    The last of heralds, Death, has snatch'd away.
He calls on all alike, nor even deigns
To spare the office that himself sustains.

Thy locks were whiter than the plumes display'd
    By Leda's paramour^[2] in ancient time,
But thou wast worthy ne'er to have decay'd,
    Or, Aeson-like,^[3] to know a second prime,
Worthy for whom some Goddess should have won
New life, oft kneeling to Apollo's son.^[4]

Commission'd to convene with hasty call
    The gowned tribes, how graceful wouldst thou stand!
So stood Cyllenius^[5] erst in Priam's hall,
    Wing-footed messenger of Jove's command,
And so, Eurybates^[6] when he address'd
To Peleus' son Atrides' proud behest.

Dread Queen of sepulchres! whose rig'rous laws
    And watchful eyes, run through the realms below,
Oh, oft too adverse to Minerva's cause,
    Too often to the Muse not less a foe,
Chose meaner marks, and with more equal aim
Pierce useless drones, earth's burthen and its shame!

Flow, therefore, tears for Him from ev'ry eye,
    All ye disciples of the Muses, weep!
Assembling, all, in robes of sable dye,
    Around his bier, lament his endless sleep,
And let complaining Elegy rehearse
In every School her sweetest saddest verse.

William Cowper

William Cowper was an English poet and hymnodist known for his contributions to English literature and the Evangelical revival of the 18th century. He suffered from periods of severe depression and mental illness, which influenced much of his work. Despite his struggles, Cowper produced notable works including 'Olney Hymns' in collaboration with John Newton and 'The Task,' which gained considerable popularity. His poetry is often characterized by its introspective, religious, and sometimes melancholic themes.

William Cowper

On The Benefit Received By His Majesty From Sea-Bathing In The Year 1789.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Lovest Thou Me? - John xxi.16.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

The Birds Nest. A Tale.[1]

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Lines Composed For A Memorial Of Ashley Cowper, Esq. Immediately After His Death, By His Nephew William Of Weston.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

English

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Elegy II On the Death of the University Beadle at Cambridge.1

Thee, whose refulgent staff and summons clear,
Minerva's flock longtime was wont t'obey,
Although thyself an herald, famous here,
The last of heralds, Death, has snatch'd away.
He calls on all alike, nor even deigns
To spare the office that himself sustains.

Thy locks were whiter than the plumes display'd
By Leda's paramour² in ancient time,
But thou wast worthy ne'er to have decay'd,
Or, Aeson-like,³ to know a second prime,
Worthy for whom some Goddess should have won
New life, oft kneeling to Apollo's son.⁴

Commission'd to convene with hasty call
The gowned tribes, how graceful wouldst thou stand!
So stood Cyllenius⁵ erst in Priam's hall,
Wing-footed messenger of Jove's command,
And so, Eurybates^6<...

John Milton

Elegy III. Anno Aetates 17.[1] On The Death Of The Bishop Of Winchester.[2]

Silent I sat, dejected, and alone,
Making in thought the public woes my own,
When, first, arose the image in my breast
Of England's sufferings by that scourge, the pest.^[3]
How death, his fun'ral torch and scythe in hand,
Ent'ring the lordliest mansions of the land,
Has laid the gem-illumin'd palace low,
And level'd tribes of Nobles at a blow.
I, next, deplor'd the famed fraternal pair^[4]
Too soon to ashes turn'd and empty air,    
The Heroes next, whom snatch'd into the skies
All Belgia saw, and follow'd with her sighs;
But Thee far most I mourn'd, regretted most,
Winton's chief shepherd and her worthiest boast;
Pour'd out in tears I thus complaining said--
Death, next in pow'r to Him who rules the Dead!
Is't not enough that all the wood...

William Cowper

On the Death of the Vice-Chancellor, A Physician.[1]

Learn ye nations of the earth
The condition of your birth,
Now be taught your feeble state,
Know, that all must yield to Fate!

If the mournful Rover, Death,
Say but once-resign your breath-
Vainly of escape you dream,
You must pass the Stygian stream.

Could the stoutest overcome
Death's assault, and baffle Doom,                
Hercules had both withstood
Undiseas'd by Nessus' blood.^[2]

Ne'er had Hector press'd the plain
By a trick of Pallas slain,
Nor the Chief to Jove allied^[3]
By Achilles' phantom died.

Could enchantments life prolong,
Circe, saved by magic song,
Still had liv'd, and equal skill
Had preserv'd Medea still.^[4]                                    

Dwelt in herbs ...

William Cowper

On the Death of the Bishop of Ely.[1] Anno Aetates 17.

My lids with grief were tumid yet,
And still my sullied cheek was wet
With briny dews profusely shed
For venerable Winton dead,^[2]
When Fame, whose tales of saddest sound
Alas! are ever truest found,
The news through all our cities spread
Of yet another mitred head
By ruthless Fate to Death consign'd,
Ely, the honour of his kind.
At once, a storm of passion heav'd
My boiling bosom, much I grieved
But more I raged, at ev'ry breath
Devoting Death himself to death.
With less revenge did Naso^[3] teem
When hated Ibis was his theme;
With less, Archilochus,^[4] denied
The lovely Greek, his promis'd bride.
But lo! while thus I execrate,
Incens'd, the Minister of Fate,
Wondrous accents, soft, yet clear,
Wafted on...

William Cowper

Elegy VI To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting In The Country

Who sent the Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested that his verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account of the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and which would not allow him leisure to finish them as he wished.

With no rich viands overcharg'd, I send
Health, which perchance you want, my pamper'd friend;
But wherefore should thy Muse tempt mine away
From what she loves, from darkness into day?
Art thou desirous to be told how well
I love thee, and in verse? Verse cannot tell.
For verse has bounds, and must in measure move;
But neither bounds nor measure knows my love.
How pleasant in thy lines described appear
December's harmless sports and rural cheer!    
French spirits kindling with caerulean fires,
And all such gambols as the time...

William Cowper

Elegy III - Anno Aetates 17.1 - On the Death of the Bishop of Winchester.2

Silent I sat, dejected, and alone,
Making in thought the public woes my own,
When, first, arose the image in my breast
Of England's sufferings by that scourge, the pest.³
How death, his fun'ral torch and scythe in hand,
Ent'ring the lordliest mansions of the land,
Has laid the gem-illumin'd palace low,
And level'd tribes of Nobles at a blow.
I, next, deplor'd the famed fraternal pair⁴
Too soon to ashes turn'd and empty air,
The Heroes next, whom snatch'd into the skies
All Belgia saw, and follow'd with her sighs;
But Thee far most I mourn'd, regretted most,
Winton's chief shepherd and her worthiest boast;
Pour'd out in tears I thus complaining said
Death, next in pow'r to Him who rules the Dead!
Is't not enough that all the woodlands yiel...

John Milton